


Make Me Remember

by adrift_me



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Arthur Pendragon Returns, Hospitals, M/M, Magic, Memory Loss, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the sun hid behind the horizon, the King of Camelot woke up.</p><p>Arthur Pendragon returns and finds his loyal friend and servant Merlin without any memories of their common past. What is the key to bring back his recollections?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hospital chambers

**Author's Note:**

> A challenging work for me, to try and push my writing limits. Enjoyed every moment of writing it!
> 
> I'd love to thank my dear friend Sangy for fantastic help and brainstorming!

As the sun hid behind the horizon, the King of Camelot woke up.

There were no fanfares to welcome his awakening, nor did he expect any. Arthur blinked and breathed in roughly, fresh cold air filling his lungs. He felt heavy and tired, a dull pain disturbing him in his chest. He laid still for a few seconds, trying to recollect anything before his deep sleep.

A whole life raced through his mind like a flash of dazzling morning sunlight. Through closed eyelids he could still see what last was in front of his eyes. It was Merlin. Merlin, holding him tight in his arms, his face ever so close, his eyes filled with trembling tears.

Arthur shook his head, fighting off this dramatic flood of nonsense that the court ladies used to discuss. It was just Merlin, his silly piece of a manservant, unable to serve his master right. It was Merlin, whose eyes glowed in rage and a flick of head made men fly far from him, hitting hard on the ground.

Arthur shifted on the cold surface and called out, his voice hoarse:

“Merlin.”

There was no answer.

Arthur looked around, wondering where he could be. It was a cave, cold and lonely. Large stalactites connected with stalagmites, creating natural stone columns, suspending the cave. Water was dripping down the long sharp stalactites that decorated the ceiling. Apart from that there were no other sounds. Arthur moved and sat up. He found himself in a boat that slowly swayed on water at the stone ledge. Arthur carefully stood up. He had no sword, no other weapon to protect himself, only a weighty armor on his upper body. Quite an unpolished armor, as Arthur thought. He would definitely ask Merlin to take care of it, once he found him.

And then Arthur’s head was flooded with new memories. Merlin’s magic was only a part of a massive picture of betrayals. He remembered the fight at Camlann, the death of Morgana, Mordred’s betrayal. Arthur grabbed his hair and squinted as painful memories blinded him.

Whatever his recollections were, however much pain they brought, it was time to get out, find his useless servant and make his way back to Camelot, to Guinevere and his knights.

It was a long way. When Arthur left the cave, he winced, as light struck his eyes. Despite the sunset, Arthur’s eyes were in pain. He rubbed them and measured the swimming distance in a glance. There was nothing around apart from the cave and a strange mass of dark stone, that surrounded the cave. Arthur patted its solid rough surface.

He walked up to the lake. It was dirty, Arthur could hardly see through it. He felt death in its waters. Arthur frowned; when he last saw the lake, it was clear and welcoming. He sighed and unhurriedly stepped into the water, sending ripples on its surface.

In twenty minutes of swim, slowed down by his armor and thick clothes, driven by willing to return, Arthur fell heavily on the ground. Pain of the wound was drowned in adrenaline. His clothes was soaking wet, cold armour weighed him down. He moved a lock of wet hair off of his eyes.

“That is one hell of a swim,” he breathed out and closed his eyes, falling into a worried deep slumber.

The next moment he found himself incredibly comfortable, a purely white blanket tucked in around him. He was warm and rested, no longer wet. He felt no weight of armor, only a gentle touch of some soft cloth, close to his body. He still felt pain in his chest, but it was bearable. A variety of strange devices, that undoubtedly were magical, beeped around him. Arthur blinked.

“Welcome back, sir,” said a very cheerful voice. Someone leaned in and Arthur tried to focus his eyes to see the stranger. “How do you feel?”

“Your voice is familiar,” said Arthur instead of all questions he prepared. “Let me look at you.”

He unceremoniously grabbed the stranger’s white robes and pulled him closer. Arthur’s eyes focused and it took him a few seconds to recognize these blue eyes, short black hair and a stupid grin of his manservant.

“Merlin!” he exclaimed, letting go of his white robes and trying to sit up. “Where the hell have you been? What’s happened? I’m alive!”

“I can see that, sir,” said Merlin uncertainly, pushing some buttons on the device. Then he moved to Arthur and forced him to lay back down. “How do you know my name? You definitely didn’t have time to read my badge.”

“Badge? What is this you are talking about, Merlin? Where are we, by the way?” asked Arthur, finally giving himself a chance to look around better. He was lying in a long bed with a thick mattress and white sheets, such as he’d never seen in Camelot. The room itself was small and too white to Arthur’s taste. He immediately felt an urge to demand other chambers.

“Sir, you need to rest. You are absolutely exhausted. But you shall be fine soon. Do you remember if you have any family?” Merlin pushed on, his face in confusion. He picked up a tablet from the end of Arthur’s bed and looked at him from behind it. Arthur rolled his eyes annoyed.

“Merlin, if you don’t stop it right now, I might just throw something at you,” hissed Arthur. Merlin blinked.

“Excuse me, sir,” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on Arthur. He waited for a few seconds, frowning, and left, closing the door silently behind him.

Arthur stared after him in amazement. The joke was too long for his taste, but he decided to forgive Merlin, if he was going to come back this instant and shout something like “Ha-ha, you clotpole, you should have seen your face”.

But Merlin did not return in five minutes, nor in half an hour. There was only a young girl, too young and pretty for a servant, who visited Arthur every half an hour, checking the magical devices and writing something on her board. She hardly said a word to him apart from “would you like some water, sir?” and “press this button if you need me, sir”.

Later in the evening, while Arthur was lying in a comfortable bed, dozing after some pills he was forced to take, hushed voices echoed in the room.

“He makes an incredibly fast recovery for someone in his state,” said a female voice. “Where do you say they found him?”

“At the lake of Avalon,” stated another voice. “He was lying in the grass, fully dressed as those medieval roleplayers. They must have had a meeting.”

“It is strange then that they left him there.”

“Nobody saw anyone around him. This couple, that found him, assumed that he was either drowning or committing a suicide. I think that both are unlikely. He is wounded, you know.”

“Yes, Merlin, I know it. Well, he is quite a mystery. Does he remember anything?”

“It seems not. But...” the voice paused and got nudged by another speaker. “When he woke up, he seemed to have recognized me. His eyes were so relieved.”

There was silence for a few moments, then the woman spoke.

“I think we should wait till he fully recovers. It might be an amnesia.”

“Amnesia it is,” agreed the male voice owner. The conversation ended, the door closed quietly and only the footsteps could be heard outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	2. My pleasure, sire

Merlin appeared in Arthur’s chamber only the next day. He was holding a tray with some food.

“I thought I’ll bring you breakfast myself and see how you feel. Did you sleep well, sir?” asked Merlin, putting a tray before Arthur on a strange table, attached to his bed. Arthur had never seen food like this before, but picked up a fork and tried to eat it. He nearly spit it all out on Merlin, when the food touched his mouth.

“This is disgusting, Merlin, what is it?” Arthur wrinkled his nose and looked at Merlin, who gave him a faint smile.

“You have to eat, it will help you gain your strength back.”

“I cannot get my strength back by eating this” Arthur gave another disapproving look at the plate and turned to Merlin. He looked at him with an arched brow. Arthur swallowed. “Well, if you insist...”

Arthur put more breakfast in his mouth and chewed unwillingly. Merlin’s smile grew wider as he watched his patient eat. Arthur left only a small amount that he couldn’t bear having in his mouth, but Merlin seemed satisfied. He leaned to pick up the tray, when Arthur looked in his blue eyes with a deepest concern and regret.

“Merlin,” Arthur gently touched his forearm, “whatever wrongs I have said back then, I am endlessly grateful to you. And I forgive your betrayal. You meant well.”

Merlin, still leaning in, looked back at Arthur. The King thought he saw a sparkle of recognition, but it quickly faded away.

“Sir, I fear the anaesthetic is still wearing off after we have tended to your wound. You need to sleep and soon your head will be as clear as ever,” spoke Merlin with a gentle tone, the one Arthur used to talk to his young knights, who missed home or were scared of hurting anyone. Moreover, Arthur found it strange that Merlin still couldn’t recognize him nor acknowledged that he was indeed this very Merlin.

When he left, taking the tray with him, Arthur dived into thinking. Merlin’s behaviour planted many doubts in his mind, such as were his recollections true or false. Was it Merlin in front of him or was it a wicked game of his imagination?

But it could not be. Arthur felt a battle wound in his chest, still prickling with every move. It was given to him by Mordred with a sword, forged in dragon’s breath. And Merlin was Merlin. Not in his Merlin-ish behaviour, but it was him. Arthur just needed a proof.

 

***

 

As days went by, Arthur tried challenging Merlin, asking him questions and playing along. He agreed to follow Merlin’s rules only to learn out more about the place he found himself in. It was something they called “a hospital”, an infirmary in good old language. The people in white robes were called “doctors” and “nurses”, tending to wounded and ill people. Arthur was lying in a ward, devices around him were writing his state down, though he couldn’t imagine these mechanical beasts capable of it.

Merlin appeared to be a nurse, soon to become a doctor. The young girls in white robes called him “sir” and his elder colleagues supported him and gave useful advice.

What Arthur found most wonderful and disturbing was the date. He might have slept till year 2015. But if he did, how come Merlin stayed young? How could Arthur still be blooming with handsome youth? And why had his servant forgotten their life in Camelot? Couldn’t his magic support him till this day?

Perhaps, it was because the world had lost its magic. It was a realm without kings and queens, who held power. A world of mechanical devices. People were more like equals rather than judged by their rank. And who was Arthur among them all?

One evening he overheard Merlin talking to someone in a low voice, stating that Arthur might have suffered an amnesia and considered himself the King from the ancient Arthurian legends. There was a soft laughter.

“It’s good we have you, Merlin. Your name goes very well with your patient’s.”

“We cannot let him go, Dr. Clark. If you check on him, you will see that his physical strength is back, but his mental state is still worrying.”

“Why don’t you take him home? You once did it for a patient with no family, who appeared to be in a similar situation. You could do it again, couldn’t you? Under your care Arthur will recover quickly.”

“I am not sure I can handle it right now.”

“Come, come, Merlin! You are a skilled physician, this man will only need your guidance, not nursing.”

Arthur smirked. The voices subdued and someone came in.

“Now, Mr. Arthur. How are you?” asked the stranger in a white robe, sitting next to the King. “Merlin tells me you almost made a full recovery during the past few days.”

“I feel fine,” said Arthur coolly, sitting up. The older man nodded and smiled at him in a fatherly manner, patting his shoulder.

“I can see that. We could let you go, but do you have anywhere to stay?”

“I’ll be glad to rid you of my presence, but alas, there is nowhere I can go,” said Arthur bitterly, knowing that his Camelot residence was long gone.

“So I thought. Well, my assistant, Mr. Merlin Emrys, often helps people like you and takes them to his home for a while, until they remember something or fully recover. He is a good doctor, we can transfer the responsibilities about your health to him. If you agree, of course.”

Arthur remembered that this man mentioned Merlin’s lack of experience in holding a patient at home, but this was Arthur’s chance to make his silly servant remember it all. And he was not going to lose it.

Merlin himself appeared on the threshold, grinning. Arthur glanced at him and nodded. Finally this gangly fool would remember him and all would be fine.

“Yes, I agree. When are we to move?”

 

***

 

Arthur walked down the stairs with the help of Merlin. As they slowly descended, Merlin had a tight grasp of Arthur’s forearm, a heavy bag with Arthur’s armor hanging on the another hand. There was still a wound in Arthur’s chest, but he could ignore it easily, having got used to injuries during his many battles. Once downstairs, they walked through a large clean hall, full of row seats, where ill people sat.

“How are we getting to your home? Is there a horse for me?” asked Arthur, trying to look outside of the glass doors, which were incredibly inconvenient in case of an attack, as Arthur pointed out in his mind.

“A horse? No, we are taking a taxi, of course,” laughed Merlin, holding Arthur’s arm and helping him to walk out. “It’s not very far from the hospital, only about twenty minutes from here.”

“Good,” responded Arthur, having no idea what “a taxi” is. The taxi turned out to be a mechanical carriage, moving on its own. Arthur thought it was unwise of him to assume that this world had no magic. Apparently it had, for how else could these strange things move? There were many of them on flat black roads, hundreds of carriages of all colours and sizes. Arthur even saw a few without a roof, which again screamed with inconvenience in case of attacks, whoever the attacker might have been.

Yet as they were riding in a metal carriage, Arthur saw no hostility in this new realm. No one was carrying a sword, let alone any kind of weapon. People smiled and talked. Arthur frowned, looking out of the window. Was this world better than in his times?

As Merlin promised, the taxi stopped at the high building, higher than anything Arthur had seen. It had many windows, but otherwise was quite boring. It had no flags, no tapestries and no man to meet them at the entrance. Merlin helped Arthur get out of the taxi and led him towards the building, and then high up to the seventh floor.

“Welcome, your Majesty,” teased Merlin in a friendly way, letting Arthur stomp inside and closing the door. “Your room is in the end of the hall. Feel yourself like at home.”

“I will try, thank you”, nodded Arthur, thinking that it would be quite a challenge. Merlin quickly paced across the room towards an unusual device. Arthur followed Merlin’s directions and pushed the door to his chambers. It was a rather small room with a single bed, a small dresser and a shabby desk. The curtains were drawn on the windows.

“Do you like it?” asked Merlin close to Arthur’s ear. “I will freshen it up for you and you’ll have some rest. We mustn’t let you stress yourself for the next few days, your wound is still healing.”

Saying this, Merlin walked inside, moved the curtains and opened the window, letting fresh air in the room. In Arthur’s opinion this air could have hardly been called fresh with all the gases the strange carriages fumed. Merlin picked up a pillow from the bed and fluffed it up.

“Lay down,” he gestured towards the bed. Arthur obeyed, walking slowly towards the bed. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“Thank you, Merlin. You have always been very kind to me,” said Arthur sincerely, lying down and holding his chest, where the bandages were. Merlin gave him a warm smile.

“My pleasure, sire.”

As he walked out, Arthur stared after him. Was it teasing or an old habit, slipping off of his lips?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	3. The Red Scarf

“Do you remember who wounded you?” asked Merlin.

It was night fall. The sky had already been coloured in deep shades and small star dots covered its surface. Arthur was well rested during the day, having slept after taking more pills. Now they were sitting in a small bright kitchen, eating their supper. Merlin brought two boxes with steaming food (“take-away”, he called it) and they had nearly finished them when the conversation began.

“Yes, I do,” replied Arthur, swirling the fork in noodles. An image of a young man with dark curly hair popped in his mind, anger, hatred and disappointment in his handsome features. What terrible emotions drove him when he ran Arthur through with a sword? “He was a friend. And then he became a foe. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done what I have. He had a good heart and with my mistake it was turned to hatred and darkness.”

“What’s happened to him?” Merlin’s lip trembled as he lowered the fork.

“I betrayed his trust, he betrayed mine,” said Arthur, remembering the girl who he tried to save. “During the battle he wounded me when I showed mercy. I could do it no more, I had to kill him.”

Arthur found it bizarre, telling Merlin what he had already known and probably much better than the King himself. He recollected Merlin’s mumbling about being able to have prevented Mordred’s assassination. And he failed. Or did he?

Merlin froze with a fork at his wide opened mouth.

“You want to say you killed a man?”

“I’ve killed many. This is what you get when you are at war,” said Arthur with all the burdens of deaths upon him. Suddenly the dinner was not delicious at all, food stuck in his throat like a lump.

“So you have been a warrior then?” asked Merlin skeptically.

Arthur said nothing, tired of Merlin’s pretending or oblivion. He must have noticed it, as he lowered his fork and opened his mouth to speak.

“Look, Arthur. I am very sorry that you have a… problem with your memories. But I am sure it will be alright soon. I’ll be glad to help. I just don’t want them to get worse with playing along,” Merlin’s voice was sympathetic and yet firm. Arthur shook his head and a desperate smile touched the corners of his lips.

“I haven’t forgotten anything. It’s you who did.”

Merlin didn’t look at him from the box.

***

The next few days were the strangest in Arthur’s life. He thought he had seen many things, faced endless magical creatures and fought all possible enemies, from friends to sorcerers. But this brand new life in modern times was exhausting, what with the wound in his chest, that seemed to have slowed its improvement down.

Merlin still had to work in hospital, so he left early in the morning and returned by midday, when the sun flashed across the city. Trying to entertain Arthur, Merlin brought him books and maps, tourist guides and dictionaries, so that he could get acquainted with the city of London. It was the center of the mighty United Kingdom. Arthur’s heart sank when he heard of a royal family’s existence, apart from his own persona. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t actually ruling the kingdom, but assumed he couldn’t even start figuring it out, unless he studied more about the modern realm.

Merlin also introduced something called “civilization and technology” to Arthur. This force seemed to have been ruling the world, using mechanical devices and science. There were self-brewing teapots, flat stoves without fire and heating boxes to warm the food up. Arthur’s most favourite toy was a large flat box with pictures. It could talk and change so fast, that Arthur’s head swam when he first saw it. Merlin chuckled at him, whenever Arthur touched the gifts of civilization, but never said anything. Apparently, his servant was quite used to what this realm had to suggest.

Arthur awkwardly spent mornings, trying to figure out how a kettle works. He pushed buttons, closed and opened the lid, but just couldn’t understand how this little jug can boil water so fast. Eventually it had to break, which Arthur confessed to Merlin.

“I cannot believe it,” groaned the young man, dropping a toolbox on the kitchen counter. “Good thing you didn’t rip it apart.”

Arthur smiled sarcastically and sat next to Merlin.

“This is times when magic could be handy,” he said, watching his friend meddling with tools, trying to unstuck the broken lid. He threw him a glance, cold and slightly annoyed. Arthur sighed.

In this routine a whole week had passed. Arthur ate and slept, took pills (less and less every day) and spent time on the sofa on soft pillows. However much he seemed to like it, the King wanted back to his times. He felt sad to have lost his wife, his knight friends and more importantly, he had lost himself. In this place he was no longer the King, a mere citizen with nothing special about him. His most loyal friend, Merlin, was deaf and blind to Arthur’s despair, but he was always there to give him a helping hand.

Arthur did not dare to voice his doubts and fears, as they flooded his mind at one of the suppers. This time Merlin was cooking himself, with Arthur sitting at the table and watching him in awe. The servant boiled spaghetti and prepared a deliciously smelling sauce with meat.

“It looks good. Thank you, Merlin,” smiled Arthur, as they got down to eating. Merlin only nodded, spaghetti hanging out of his mouth. Arthur laughed.

“You have started saying “thank you” and “please” so often, Arthur, that I don’t recognize you,” said Merlin through chewing and chuckling. The King froze, his eyes looking fixedly on Merlin. He looked up. “What?”

“What you just said, what did you mean?”

There was a moment’s confusion on Merlin’s face and he started eating even quicker, than before. Arthur leaned in to push on the subject.

“You just said, I remember it. This is something you told me long ago. Back in our times, about “please” and “thank you”. When I...” Arthur wrinkled his nose, trying to remember, “... turned into a simpleton and we travelled with Tristan and Isolde. Remember? Because I do.”

“I only said it because I… did,” shrugged Merlin.

“No, no, I know what it is. You start remembering,” Arthur found his tone victorious, almost triumphant, his eyes gleaming in rejoice.

“There is nothing for me to remember, Arthur, will you ever stop?” Merlin swallowed food and looked at his patient irritably. “I am perfectly fine, it’s not me who needs his memories back, it’s you. The Great King Arthur is nothing but a legend! And you just have the same name. That’s all! Now, eat up and wash the dishes, won’t you.”

Merlin stood up angrily and left the plate in a sink. Arthur heard him mutter furiously as he made his way to his bedroom. The King sighed. There were hard times ahead, but he was ready to do everything to bring his Merlin back. After all, Merlin truly started remembering, his memories reaching out to Arthur. The King was sure that his presence was an accelerator for Merlin’s mind, a catalyst to his long forgotten past. But there must have been something else.

***

Merlin seemed to be angry for the next few days. He hardly spoke to Arthur, as if afraid to come back to their discussion. He cooked food and gave him pills, tended to his nearly healed wound, but never talked. Arthur started feeling lonely. He remembered Merlin’s babbling whenever they travelled to distant lands or around Camelot. He would tell funny stories about himself and Arthur’s knights, feed him with rumours that even the Court didn’t know. He seemed to have a great knowledge of mysterious caves and forests, but a very poor one of Camelot lands.

On a Friday night Merlin was standing in front of the mirror, combing his raven black hair. Arthur leaned at the doorway, watching his friend curiously.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked, as Merlin sprayed a bottle of perfume once. It was a pleasant manly smell that spread around the tiny hall.

“Yes, it’s a night out for me and my friends. I am sorry, you’ll have to stay home alone,” Merlin shot Arthur an apologetic look and a weak smile. “Not that I don’t appreciate your company, but...”

“No, you go and have fun in the tavern,” said Arthur and added under his breath, “It seems you go there even at these times.”

“Sorry. I don’t think you’ll be too bored. I brought you some books, they are on the desk in the living room,” Merlin gestured towards the room without looking in its direction. His gaze was glued to his reflection in the mirror. He was dressed in jeans and a shabby dark red shirt. There was a thin scarf, hanging on the mirror. Arthur’s heart started beating quicker as he watched Merlin reach out for it. But his hand paused and dropped.

“See you later,” grinned Merlin. As he turned to the door, Arthur called out for him.

“Wait, Merlin,”

“Yes?” he looked around. Arthur stepped to him and squeezed his shoulders.

“I am sorry I have pressed on you. I shouldn’t have. You are being kind to me, allowing me to be your guest in your apartment. Please accept my apologies,” said the King, holding Merlin’s shoulders in a tight squeeze. Merlin looked down, hiding an appreciative smile.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. I am sorry too if I have offended you. You know, I am happy to be your friend and servant till the day I die.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as quickly as Arthur’s. He gasped and, shooting a stretched smile to Arthur, left in a quick pace, closing the door behind. Once Merlin was out, the King pulled the scarf off. He touched it, crumpled it in his hands, spread and folded again. But there was nothing. It was simply a scarf.

Arthur stared at the close door. It seemed that the closer they stood, the more sincere things they said, the quicker Merlin’s memories rushed to return. The King sighed and pressed the scarf to his chest.

Arthur took it with him to the living room. The books that Merlin mentioned laid in a stack on the desk. Some were quite shabby, their covers ready to detach and fall from the pages. Arthur looked through their names. The folios were all about the Arthurian legend. Fairy tales, myths about the greatest King, his magician and many people around him.

“Why would you do that?” whispered Arthur, taking one of the books. Was it simply to prove that Arthur was no king but a mere amnesiac person?

Arthur drowned in the books and their tales. He was sitting on the sofa, the only light was coming from a small lamp on a coffee table. It reminded him of the chamber candles, that gave little light but enough to see in the night darkness. All this while Arthur was holding Merlin’s scarf, to which his gaze wandered from time to time.

Soon drowsiness took over the King and he snoozed on a small pillow, book lying on his chest, scarf tightly held in one hand.

… He was running fast through the darkness. He couldn’t make out where he was: it was neither forest nor a castle. Something had been chasing Arthur and it was dangerous. It growled and croaked, flapping its enormous wings.

How long had Arthur been running from this terror? His breath was heavy and quick, pain in his chest increasing with seconds. He was clutching a red handkerchief in his hand, as if his life depended on it.

Arthur’s foot hooked under something and he stumbled, flying further, hitting his face hard on the ground. Fear spread all over his chest: he lost this race and was about to die.

But he didn’t.

He was still on the ground, he heard the croaking noises behind, but no one hastened to attack him. He felt his body turned over and something warm touching his chest, where a bleeding wound was.

“Arthur,” called the creature, its voice echoing in Arthur’s head and around him. As the King tried to answer, he felt his lips were too dry for talking. The creature repeated his name. When Arthur tried to answer again, the creature spoke once more. “It is now the time you are needed most. Merlin must remember.”

A sudden cold touch to his forehead made Arthur jump. Bright light hurt his eyes, cold liquid dripped down his face and neck, making him shiver. He shifted and was stopped by someone’s strong grip.

“No, lie down. You need to rest,” said a gentle worried voice. There was Merlin, sitting next to Arthur and mopping his face with a cold wet towel. The servant's face was concerned, his eyes were red. He moistened the towel and carefully placed it on Arthur’s forehead.

“What’s happened?” mumbled the King, touching his head. Merlin’s lips stiffened before he responded.

“I came back home and found you on the sofa. You were in fever, mumbling nonsense, breathing so quickly.”

“I had a bad dream...”

“I figured as much,” smiled Merlin. They watched each other, while Merlin was helping Arthur’s fever to cease, spreading cold water over his face. Arthur noticed how gentle he was in his touches, how anxious his blue eyes were.

“You took my scarf,” noted Merlin casually, pointing at the red accessory with a quick glance.

“I thought… whatever,” Arthur shook his head and Merlin pulled the wet towel away. He stood up to go and change the water, when the King followed. Arthur was trembling, his legs too weak to hold him. “I think I will head to bed. I shall bother you no longer.”

Merlin’s glance followed Arthur, as he slowly made his way towards the bedroom.

“I am sorry, Arthur,” he called out, but a closing door was his response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	4. Kilgharrah's Advice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find a reference - get a bonus cookie :D

As Arthur made his way through the books Merlin brought him, he found many interesting details. It was ludicrous to read about himself in so many lies and truths. The King couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad that his story was merely a legend, told in many ways, but hardly ever real. His heart ached when the books mentioned Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair. He even cried once, reading about the fallen Camelot, its towers buried under the weight of centuries. There were legends about his Round Table, his faithful knights, friends and traitors. But what amused Arthur, was no single mention of Merlin as a servant. All these pompous books presented him as an old wise sorcerer, right hand of the great King, but not an idiot, risking his life at every chance to save his King’s life. They portrayed him as Arthur’s mentor and guardian, rather than a friend. It disturbed Arthur. He had suspicions about who laid a hand to these legends…

Another curious piece of information was his sword. It was named Excalibur and seemed to have rested on the bottom of the lake of Avalon. Arthur closed the volume and started into nothingness, thinking. If he could get the sword, it would be a strong proof for Merlin. It would be a strong proof for Arthur himself.

And so he made his decision. As they sat through breakfast, consuming delicious toasts and coffee, Arthur was incredibly silent. Merlin watched him and finally asked,

“Are you alright? You are too quiet and not complaining about anything.”

“I thought I might give you some rest,” smiled Arthur, biting on the toast with jam. Merlin’s brows rose for a second and he nodded. Arthur continued, “In fact I have a request. May I go and see the place where I was found?”

Merlin opened his mouth in surprise and a piece of toast fell into his cup.

“Why would you want to go there?”

“Clues. Clues on my presence there.”

“You want to remember, don’t you?” asked Merlin, spreading jam on another toast and looking at Arthur. He nodded and Merlin smiled approvingly.

“Yes. To remember,” agreed Arthur. Deep in his mind he reversed these words as a clue to help Merlin remember. All he needed was to get to Avalon. There he would find his sword, maybe even a trace of the ancient realm in the cave. He had recovered enough to bear twenty minutes of swimming in icy dirty water. This time he wouldn’t be slowed down with his armor and intense pain in his chest.

 

***

 

“The lake of Avalon,” declared Merlin, as they walked up to the edge of it. The young man kneeled near the water and looked in it. “This is where they found you.”

“Good. I hope there is something here that will help me,” Arthur nodded vigorously and started pulling his T-shirt off, revealing a purplish-red spot where his ribs were. Merlin’s eyes widened and he grabbed Arthur’s hands.

“What are you doing?” he asked roughly. Arthur rolled eyes and quickly pulled the T-shirt off, before Merlin could have another chance to prevent it.

“I am doing what I must do,” said Arthur vaguely. There was a splash and a yell. Arthur quickly swam through the lake, making deep ragged breaths while moving his arms through the rippling water surface. Merlin was jumping around the lake edge, yelling at his friend and waving his hands violently. But Arthur did not listen, as he never did. He intended to have good old Merlin back, with his stupid grin, his clumsy movements and his magic, damned it be.

Merlin’s yelling and swearing quieted down as soon as Arthur reached the cave. It was the same as many days ago, when he woke up there. The boat was still swaying inside the cave, making ripples on the water. Arthur slowly made his way along the rock, carefully stepping, avoiding slippery ledges. The legends said that his sword was deep on the bottom. Arthur kneeled down and moved his hand through the lake water as if it could shatter the darkness. It was now or never.

The King inhaled deeply and jumped in the lake with a loud splash. His eyes couldn’t see well, as the cave was dark and lacked day light. Water played with Arthur’s golden locks, making them float. The King swam further and further down, finally reaching the bottom. It was colder there, darker if possible. He grazed the sand surface with his fingertips, hoping to find the sword by touch. Something glinted, hardly visible under the rock. Arthur swam up to it, noticing a golden shine of the object.

It was his sword! Gleaming in rare light, its sharp outlines visible on the sand. Arthur reached out for it and grabbed the handle. It seemed colder than the lake water. Holding it tightly, Arthur swam up towards the surface.

His body slumped on the rock, his chest heaving quickly. He felt tired and cold, but a happy, relieved grin spread across his face - he had the sword.

“Well done, Arthur Pendragon,” said a voice. Arthur’s body twitched and he quickly jumped up, holding his sword in the attacking position. There was a soft laughter, more like a grumble.

“Do not fear me,” chuckled the voice. Arthur felt shivers running down his spine as he recognized the voice from his nightmare.

“Who are you?” asked the King, looking around wildly and looking for the talking source.

“I am the Great Dragon,” the voice introduced himself.

“The one that my father imprisoned?”

“The very one,” acknowledged the dragon.

“Why can I not see you?”

“I am here. You just need to look,” the dragon laughed softly again. Arthur turned around once more and noticed a dark silhouette at the farthest cave wall. It had gleaming golden eyes and sharp teeth. The creature spoke.

“I have a matter of urgency to discuss with you, young King. You must listen closely and do everything in your power to follow my instructions.”

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Young warlock must remember,” was a stern commanding request.

“So he has indeed forgotten his true identity?” asked Arthur loudly, hearing his own voice echoing through the cave. The dragon’s head moved, as it nodded.

“Time wasn’t kind to Merlin. He started getting old. He used a lot of powers to bring himself back to health and youth. It exhausted him, made him forget who he really is. You must help him, make him remember. You and Merlin have but one path ahead. He is your destiny as much as you are his.”

“We are like two sides of one coin,” Arthur’s lips trembled and a knot twisted in his stomach, as he remembered Merlin’s words about their destiny. The Great Dragon chuckled again.

“Find a way to wake him up, to bring back what once was lost. It is essential you do it.”

“This is what I want to do. I came here in search of clues.”

“The lake of Avalon is the last stronghold of magic. It kept your body untouched through centuries. It keeps me alive to watch over you, young King,” the dragon bowed. Arthur realized he held his breath all this time and now breathed in before speaking.

“I don’t know what to do, Dragon. Merlin fights his memories off.”

“Find a way. It is up to you now. He saved your life countless times, it’s time you repaid the debt. Find something that was strong in Merlin’s past. He had many secrets from you, but they were for your own good. Make him open his heart to you. Young warlock must remember.”

“I will,” said Arthur acceptingly. He hesitated and added, “Why are you helping us? What benefit do you get?”

“There is much for me to earn from your reunion. Merlin is my old friend and the only Dragonlord, the last of his kin, just like me. My destiny always entwined with yours. It is my duty to protect both of you. But I am tired, young King. My soul is disturbed in search of peace.”

The dragon’s eyes closed. It let out a sigh. Arthur stood there, inside the cold cave, listening to the dragon’s breathing, as it fell asleep. Arthur looked around, the weight of burden pressing on his heart. He peered outside the cave, where a lonely figure of Merlin could be seen. It was time he returned.

 

***

 

Merlin and Arthur sat in the living room. Merlin’s eyes were glued to the sword, that was shining now in the light of a table lamp. The golden handle seemed untouched with time, the blade was sharp enough to cut a hair. The two men stared at it with awe and admiration.

“If this doesn’t prove anything to you, Merlin, I don’t know what will,” Arthur pressed his lips tightly together and looked at his servant. Merlin closed his mouth with both hands. The King could see his fingers trembling in revelation.

“Alright. If what you are saying is true… Do you imply I am this Merlin from the famous legends? The one who guided King Arthur?”

“To me, Merlin, you are a friend and a servant, who revealed his magic when I was on my deathbed,” grinned Arthur, gently punching his friend’s shoulder.

“It’s a weird feeling, here,” Merlin pointed at his stomach. “You don’t find out something new about yourself every day in this manner.”

“You don’t. But we must help you remember. We must find a clue. The dr...” Arthur hesitated. He didn’t tell Merlin about his encounter with the Great Dragon, but apparently they knew each other in the past. Arthur went on, “I think we should find something from your past, a strong feeling or vision, that will trigger your oblivion and return the memories.”

“How are we going to do that?” wondered Merlin, glancing at Arthur, one of the brows arched.

“This!” Arthur pointed at the stack of books with Arthurian legends. “We have nights at our disposal. We will read, I will help to sort truth from lies, we will compare facts and this way we will clear it up. And Merlin...”

As the young man looked at the King curiously, Arthur pulled out the red scarf, that he kept in a pocket.

“I want you to wear this.”

“Why?” asked Merlin, when Arthur moved closer to tie the scarf round his skinny neck.

“It is similar to the handkerchief you were wearing while being in my service,” simply said Arthur. His fingers brushed Merlin’s skin, as he tied a light knot on the back of his neck. He felt Merlin’s fast breathing on his face, as he leaned to straightened the cloth.

“Here. You are all set,” smiled Arthur and patted Merlin’s shoulder. A blush touched Arthur’s cheeks, as Merlin’s face was so close and hot with the conversation. Arthur shook his head slightly - what on earth was that? He moved away from his servant and flipped one of the books opened. Seconds later, Merlin followed his example, avoiding Arthur’s eyes.

“You don’t want me to change?” asked Merlin, his eyes hidden behind the book. Arthur gazed at his servant, book sliding out of his grasp.

“No. I don’t,” he smiled at him fondly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	5. Something You Don't Forget

“It’s useless,” concluded Arthur, closing one of the books and throwing it aside. Merlin winced and followed the book in the direction of the wall.

“Don’t give up. I am sure there is something that I will remember,” cheered  Merlin, waving with a book in his hand.

“I have a better idea. You had magic,” Arthur squinted at the thought of it. He still felt betrayed, but promised himself to let go of anger, since Merlin used his magic only for good and for Camelot’s protection.

“And?” carefully asked Merlin, closing the book.

“We need to help you remember how to use it,” Arthur shrugged.

“And how do we do that?”

“Do you have a candle? We could train on it.”

“Why do we need a candle?”

“Merlin, you are still an idiot, good news,” said Arthur with as serious face as possible, ruffling his servant’s black hair. “You could light a fire with a glance. Let’s see if you can still do it.”

“Fine,” after a moment’s hesitation Merlin agreed and moved towards the cabinet. While he was rattling with objects, Arthur watched him. The Great Dragon said that Merlin had to use magic to return his health and youth. Did it mean that his servant was an old man? Perhaps he truly took the form of a sorcerer, who scared Morgana and himself in ancient times? Arthur shivered, imagining Merlin with a long beard, as the sorcerer used to have. A smile touched his lips as he remembered this very same sorcerer at the field of Camlann, destroying Saxons with lightnings of magic.

“What?” asked Merlin, turning back to the sofa with a candle and noticing Arthur’s smile.

“Nothing,” shrugged Arthur, unable to hide his grin. He gestured towards the table. “Put the candle on there.”

“Sorry, I only have a scented one,” confessed Merlin, putting down the candle on the surface and sitting in front of it. A faint melon smell spread in the room. “Okay. What now?”

“I don’t know, you are the sorcerer. Last time I saw you doing that, you simply looked at the fire and...” Arthur gestured, pretending to make a fire. “Your eyes gleamed gold. It is what was happening when a person used magic.”

Merlin looked at Arthur uncertainly but slowly turned to the candle. It was large, with a flat bottom, its white wick standing up on the top. Merlin’s eyes fixed on the candle. Arthur felt his hands go sweaty, as he held them clenched together. Seconds went on, but nothing happened. The candle stayed unlit.

“See, there is nothing I can do,” Merlin gestured towards the candle in exasperation. Arthur sighed when suddenly a tiny flame appeared on top of the candle, as if someone lighted it from the hearth. Merlin moved his hand away quickly, as if he had already burnt it on the fire.

“Yes!” whooped Arthur victoriously, eyes wide at the sight of a flame. He was surprised to realize that he was happy to see magic. If somebody told him such a nonsense back in Camelot, he could have hanged them for stupidity. Merlin stared at his hand, long fingers sprayed.

“Was it really me?”

“Of course! Let’s try again, shall we?” Arthur put out the candle and looked at Merlin expectantly. The warlock returned his gaze with his brows furrowed, but stared at the fire. This time it was quicker. Fire burnt almost immediately.

“Incredible,” whispered Merlin, flames dancing in the reflection of his eyes. Arthur patted his back in a friendly way.

“This is something you can’t forget easily, Merlin.”

Despite happiness of Merlin’s magic return, Arthur’s heart sank lower along with a twisting knot in his stomach. His magic was back, obviously, but memories seemed to have stayed in oblivion. The King was sure that if Merlin had remembered, he would have already said something or jumped around Arthur. But Merlin was sitting next to him on the sofa, his face in incredulity. There was no sign of recognition in him. Apparently the same thoughts visited the young warlock, as he turned to look at Arthur apologetically.

“I am sorry. I… there is still nothing in my head. But magic is something. At least there is a stronger proof to go on for me.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Arthur in disappointment.

“We’ll figure it out. I think now we should get to bed and get some good sleep. I still have work tomorrow. And we will continue looking, I promise. This time I can’t ignore you, Arthur, and your stupid memories of Camelot,” Merlin’s lips stretched in a wide brilliant grin. Arthur suppressed an urge to put a hand on Merlin’s cheek as if to tell him that he agreed. Instead Arthur simply looked at his servant, who was looking very close to the Merlin Arthur used to know.

 

***

 

Merlin left for bed, while Arthur insisted on staying in the living room among the books. Merlin agreed, his lips pressed, but mouth corners stretched in a kind smile.

A candle was still burning on the table, spreading its melon scent around. The table lamp was turned off with no use. Arthur leaned back on the sofa, grabbing a pillow and placing it at his back. He was tired, but there were too many thoughts in his head, that he wanted to get rid of. The King’s glance fell upon the candle. It’s tiny flame was moving with Arthur’s heavy breath.

Arthur felt disappointed and broken. He was sure that with Merlin’s magic memories would come back. He knew that magic was a big important part of Merlin, magic was Merlin. But apparently there was something else, that blocked Merlin’s past from him. But what was it?

Arthur slowly enumerated everything, that could help his friend and servant to remember. Camelot, magic, family, Gaius, friends. All this was swept away as failed variants, forgotten in the past. Perhaps, there was love? Did Merlin love anyone at all? He did mention a girl, who died in mysterious circumstances. But Arthur knew nothing of her and couldn’t press on the subject. Merlin wasn’t running away at nights, during the day he spent all his time either with Gaius or Arthur. He was there on hunts and rides out on Arthur’s orders. If he’d ever loved Gwen or Morgana, there was no point now anyway. And knowing Merlin’s secret, Arthur started doubting even these feelings. They could be just another lie to protect his Prince and King.

Despair crawled upon Arthur like a shadow. Were they both stuck in unknowing?

… Arthur felt his shoulder squeezed and opened his eyes. Someone’s face swam in front of him.

“Hey, go to bed,” nudged someone, trying to make Arthur stand up. He didn’t want to. His body protested against the violence and seemed to have become heavier on purpose, staying on the sofa. Arthur blinked and saw Merlin, who had only pajama pants on him. “Come on.”

Arthur still protested, shaking his head. He let out a giggle.

“You know, you used to wake me up like this in the mornings, when I was the King. You would pull me out of bed, quite literally, and make me wake up.”

Merlin let go of Arthur’s arm, which slumped back on the sofa.

“Really?” asked Merlin with a grin. He sat next to Arthur and looked at him, his eyes gleaming in the candle light. “What else did I do?”

Arthur found it strangely pleasant, drowning in memories of his past, talking about his servant as if he was long gone. Merlin laughed in moments needed and smiled at him. But it was bizarre that he couldn’t remember stories about himself, as though Arthur was talking about an old friend.

“... then you spent an entire week with him!” exclaimed Arthur, telling Merlin about George, the most efficient servant in all five kingdoms. Merlin’s face was screwed in laughter, he pressed a hand to his chest. It’s been a good hour of tales, that Arthur remembered about Merlin and himself, their adventures, jokes and fights.

Soon enough the candle dripped down to nothing, leaving only dim light at the very bottom. Merlin’s head dropped on the shoulder, as laughter exhausted him even more. His eyes were closing, while there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“I think I’d better go to sleep,” murmured Merlin, rubbing his eyes.

“You could stay on the sofa,” suggested Arthur, pointing at the pillow. “I am going to read some more anyway.”

Merlin’s lips twitched at the suggestion, but he settled on the sofa, leaning against Arthur’s shoulder. The King remembered how they slept, shoulder to shoulder, on the run from Morgana among the snowy landscapes. Merlin’s black hair brushed Arthur’s cheek. Soon he dozed off, his head lolling on the side.

The King carefully held a hand out and placed it on Merlin’s cheek, as he long wanted to do. His skin was soft, but a tiny bit scruffy. Arthur’s finger caressed Merlin’s hair, short black and silky. He moved his hand along Merlin’s face, drawing lines through his handsome features, high cheekbones and pointed chin. A smile touched Merlin’s lips again. He opened his eyes and Arthur did not hasten to move the hand away.

“What are you doing?” asked Merlin with pauses, one brow raised. He was still looking pleased and Arthur’s hand cupped his face even more. He said nothing.

The candle died out, leaving the two men in the dark of night. Arthur’s heart was beating faster against his ribs and he quickly acknowledged where his hand was lying and how close Merlin was. He slowly leaned closer to the warlock, feeling his breath on his own lips. He wanted to savour this moment, not daring to press his mouth against Merlin’s. It was both teasing and pleasing. Merlin’s hand touched Arthur’s chest and slowly crept up towards his neck. Long fingers grabbed the King’s T-shirt, clenching it. Merlin moved closer, his lips still millimeters away from Arthur’s.

The King looked in his servant’s eyes and moved away slightly.

“Your eyes are gleaming gold,” he stated, studying the sparkling swirls in Merlin’s irises. Merlin moved away too and threw a quick glance at the mirror on the wall. His eyes indeed were glowing, two bright dots in the thick night darkness. Merlin looked back at Arthur.

“I should go back to sleep. And you. You should go to bed too,” murmured Merlin, standing up and backing away from the King, a weak smile on his face. Arthur watched him go. Merlin smashed his shoulder clumsily into the doorway and quickly left for his bedroom. Arthur rubbed his chin. How far was he ready to go?

 

***

 

When Arthur sleepily went into the living room, squinting eyes at the dull light of a rainy day, Merlin was pouring coffee in a cup. His hand trembled as he saw his friend and some coffee spilled on the white counter surface. Merlin murmured something incomprehensible. His glance fell over spilled coffee and it evaporated with a hissing steam.

“Morning,” said Arthur, watching the warlock. “Is there any coffee left?”

“You can have mine,” said Merlin hastily, putting a cup in front of Arthur and heading towards the exit. He was dressed up in trousers and a shabby T-shirt of neutral colour, but the clothing seemed messy.

“Wait, where are you going?” asked Arthur. Merlin looked back at him.

“To work, obviously.”

“Merlin, it’s Sunday,” smiled Arthur and gestured, asking Merlin to come back and sit with him. He was tense and his lips were pressed together, as he sat in front of Arthur. The King moved a coffee cup back towards Merlin. His large hands covered it.

“Look, Merlin...” started Arthur but was cut off with Merlin’s question.

“How close have we been? Why didn’t you tell me anything about it?” his voice was offended and trembling.

“Merlin, look. Listen. What happened yesterday… It’s never been happening before. But...” he covered Merlin’s forearm with his own strong fingers. “I think something inside me called out for you.”

Arthur leaned in and looked in Merlin’s eyes.

He spent half a night thinking about him, about his eyes glowing in the darkness. Arthur was sure he could feel magic vibrating around him last night, but it didn’t have a chance to spill out of the sorcerer as he himself suppressed it.

“The Great Dragon said we must trigger your memories with something strong from your past.”

“A dragon?” exclaimed Merlin nearly choking on coffee. “What dragon?”

“Yeah, long story. There is a dragon and apparently he is your friend. He still lives,” said Arthur. “I met him in a cave where I woke up. He talked about strong feelings. Now...”

Arthur breathed in, hardly believing he was even saying it.

“Perhaps, he meant it? All this. You have always been there, Merlin, always by my side, the first one to face mortal dangers to save me. You were an idiot, but the bravest I’ve ever known,” Arthur swallowed and squeezed Merlin’s forearm. “I think this is what the Great Dragon meant.”

“Kilgharrah.”

“What?” Arthur frowned, surprised with Merlin’s distracted response.

“The Dragon’s name is Kilgharrah,” simply explained Merlin and slapped a hand over his mouth.

“You remember?”

“No!” blurted out Merlin, throwing off Arthur’s hand, standing up and backing away.

“What else, Merlin? What else do you remember?” he pressed on. Merlin shook his head, small clear tears appearing in his scared eyes.

“Arthur, please, don’t make me. I remember nothing, this must have been a moment of weakness, no more. Perhaps, I have even invented this name,” Merlin kept backing away from Arthur. The King stood up and walked around the table.

“Merlin, you must remember. It is essential that you do,” Arthur repeated the Dragon’s words and stretched his hand out. “Take my hand. Have you noticed? When you touch me, you remember. I am your key.”

“Please, no,” whimpered Merlin, his back hitting the wall. As Arthur dared make another step, Merlin looked at him. His eyes gleamed golden and the silence fell.

It lasted seconds that felt like an infinity. Strong wind sent Arthur flying backwards, hitting the table and smashing down cutlery. He fell on the floor with a loud thump. The world around him swirled in the cacophony of broken glass and turned into blackness.

 

***

 

When Arthur opened his eyes, there was one word in his mouth, bitter like strong tea.

“Sorcerers,” he mumbled, touching his forehead. His head felt like split in two, his body was limp. He was lying on something soft, there was a pillow under his head. Arthur looked around and saw Merlin, sitting next to him, his head lolled on the side.

“Merlin,” exhaled Arthur. The young warlock jerked and looked at the King. His face was a mix of apology and fear. Arthur’s lips twitched. “It’s the first time you used magic against me.”

“I am sorry, Arthur. I didn’t mean to. I can’t control it,” whispered Merlin.

“This is another reason, why you must get those memories back. Now, help me get up,” Arthur propped his arm on the bed and pushed himself up. Merlin took his other hand and helped him. When the King moved his legs off the bed, Merlin’s hand slid out of his gently.

“Why did you get so scared?” Arthur asked, looking at his servant. “Have you remembered anything else, apart from the Dragon’s name?”

“Many things. Little ones, but… Arthur, I remembered so much pain,” confessed Merlin. “When you touched me, I had an image of you, dying in my arms. I saw your eyes, their light fading off, your last breath. How could I bear it again?”

Arthur swallowed. If he ever thought that he meant something to his servant, he definitely didn’t think that so much. Merlin had always been a mystery to uncover, his suspicious loyalty and devotion. He cared about Arthur so much, that even his oblivious self could feel it through centuries. And the King would have been a fool if he hadn’t noticed it now.

“I am sorry to have been a disappointment, Merlin,” Arthur smiled at him and received a warm smile back. “I will try my best to change and be better.”

“I don’t want you to change,” Merlin shook his head. Arthur smirked as Merlin repeated his last request.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	6. The Lady of the Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd post this chapter tonight. Tomorrow is the last one!

Arthur was sitting in a living room, holding a sword in his hands. He wanted to sharpen it, clean it, but it seemed that the weapon was too magical to get dirty or blunt. The golden rune writing glinted in the light of sunset.

The windows of Merlin’s apartment were drowned in warm sunshine, creeping down the curtains and spreading across the room like a snake. Arthur exposed his face towards the light. He was yearning to get a horse and ride somewhere, probably go on a good hunt and then rest with a tankard of mead. But in the modern world you couldn’t just go and kill animals off, food was easily found in markets, or shops, as Merlin named them. Mead was not a common drink, but beer was, which was served in local taverns.

Arthur sighed at his memories. His body, having spent centuries in deep slumber, were eager to stretch. The King rose from the sofa and took an attacking position, holding his sword. He thrusted a sword forward, then blocked an invisible hit, moved right, repositioned his sword. All these familiar movements were useless in his life.

With all the imagined fight and hard breathing Arthur didn’t hear the door slammed. He suddenly felt his sword’s blade touch something, there was a yell of pain and something fell on the sofa. The King turned around to see his servant, holding a hand at the shoulder, blood running quickly through his fingers. He looked at Arthur, his eyes angry.

“Oh Gods! I am sorry, Merlin,” breathed Arthur, dropping his sword on the floor and kneeled at Merlin’s side. Merlin’s fingers couldn’t hold the wound any longer, blood was dripping on the sofa down his shirt.

“Do you have any remedies? Herbs?” asked Arthur, looking around. Merlin hissed with pain and pointed at the cabinet. As Arthur dashed to it, he calmed Merlin. “Hold on, I will fix it.”

“What have you even been doing with this sword?” asked Merlin, drawling the words in pain.

“My body needs exercises. I can’t sit on my arse all days and expect my muscles to train themselves,” said Arthur seriously, spreading the remedy generously over Merlin’s wound and bandaging it with an effort. Blood crept through the bandage, creating a large splotch.

“Here, let me,” said Merlin softly and moved Arthur’s hands from his wound. He hovered palm over the cut and said something in a foreign language, that Arthur did not understand. The skin around the wound dragged, leaving only a dark red scar. Arthur glanced at his friend.

“It’s a useful kind of magic. Where did you learn a spell?” asked the King, sitting up and staring at Merlin.

“I don’t know. It came… naturally,” admitted Merlin. “Could you please fetch me some water? I need to wash the blood off.”

Arthur obeyed, going to the kitchen and getting a bowl of water and some kitchen towels. When Merlin reached out for them, Arthur snatched them back and shook his head.

“I’ll do it. I wounded you,” and he lowered the towel in water. He gently moved it on Merlin’s shoulder, slowly dragging it up and down. Blood quickly ran down Merlin’s arm, mixed with clear water. Arthur caught it with another towel. Merlin’s eyes were following every Arthur’s movement as he carefully washed the blood away, his fingers brushing Merlin’s shoulder. There were goosebumps on Merlin’s skin, and Arthur didn’t know if they came with cold or with his contact.

“Done,” said Arthur silently, when the blood was washed off and Merlin’s cut seemed as clean as possible.

“Thank you.”

“I am really sorry this has happened,” Arthur gestured towards Merlin’s wound. Merlin said nothing.

“So, how was your day at work?” asked Arthur, putting the blood red water bowl away. Merlin said nothing again and the King turned to look at his friend. Merlin’s eyes were glued to the bloody surface of the water in the bowl. He shifted closer to it, leaning over Arthur. He had to lean back into the sofa, as Merlin grabbed the bowl and put it in his knees. “What’s there? Don’t tell me you are scared of blood, because you are not.”

“Will you shut up a moment?” snapped Merlin, holding a stopping hand out at Arthur. And then the King noticed what worried his servant so much. There wasn’t just water, saturated with blood, there was a face. A real face of a pretty woman. She was smiling at both of them.

“Hello, Merlin,” she said and Arthur had to shook his head. Perhaps, this voice was his imagination. But the girl shot him a glance and a warm smile. “Young King.”

“Who are you?” asked Arthur, leaning against Merlin’s shoulder. Their skin touched and he felt Merlin’s arm twitch.

“Freya,” he cried out. The woman smiled.

“It’s me. We meet again in the time of need, Merlin. And I missed you as never before. But I am not the destiny of yours. I am a mere assistant to the Fate,” spoke the woman, glancing from Merlin to Arthur.

“How do you remember her?” asked Arthur wondering, looking at Merlin. His servant gaze fell on their arms.

“You have figured it out correctly,” said Freya, a soft smile touching her dark lips. “Your touches are healing, Arthur, whenever they are in contact with Merlin. You have to be by his side to help him. I rely on you, young King.”

To their surprise, the woman’s face disappeared, as if it had never been there and they just had a common hallucination. Arthur looked at his friend, finding his looking at water fondly, his eyes nearly in tears. A sudden understanding came to his mind.

“Was it her? This girl you loved?”

“Yes. She died at the lake of Avalon, where I brought her. I don’t remember much about her, but my heart does,” Merlin swallowed the tears, that didn’t run down his cheeks. His features gained confidence. “We must find her. She is connected to the lake of Avalon. It’s her and her alone, who will tell us how to return my memories fully.”

Determination trembled around Merlin, as he stood up. Arthur followed him.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“We are going to the lake. I will find her, I have to.”

“I still don’t understand how you remembered all this about her,” confessed Arthur, clearly offended that he seems to be the only person his friend doesn’t recollect. Merlin threw a jacket over his shoulders and turned around to look at Arthur. The King’s face must have been looking lost, as he stepped closer and patted his shoulder.

“While we spoke to her, our arms were close together. Remember what she said. Your touches are healing for me.”

Arthur smiled. His heart was filled with hope. He knew that this Freya was Merlin’s first love, but it wasn’t up to her to return his memories. What other, stronger feeling was needed to make Merlin’s heart fight his own magic off, to reveal what was hidden with a broken spell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


	7. Make Me Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it. I do hope you enjoyed it! Please, be so kind to comment my work, as I'd like to know what you think. Thank you for reading!

They spent almost an hour near the lake, walking around it, studying the water. Merlin tried using his magic, but it only troubled the water, making circular ripples on its surface. He straightened up and put hands on the hips.

“There must be something,” he said distractedly, peering into the distance. His hand fell down and his brows furrowed. “Wait, you said that the Dragon is here?”

He turned to look at Arthur, who stood close with his arms folded. The King held his arm out and pointed towards a large mass of rock in the center of the lake.

“There. He is sleeping inside the cave.”

“Then we must go there.”

“Can you swim?” asked Arthur, clutching the bottom of his T-shirt, ready to pull it off. Merlin nodded.

“Yes, I believe I can,” he replied, quickly getting rid of his shirt. They left their possessions in a bush, hidden carefully away.

They both dived into the cold water and started swimming slowly, working their arms through the lake. Arthur suddenly felt warmth, covering his hands and turned to look at Merlin. His friend was swimming nearby, making deep breaths. As his head hovered above the water surface, he faced Arthur. The King saw golden gleam dissolving in Merlin’s eyes. He smirked.

The cave drew nearer and nearer and Arthur’s strength seemed to increase, as he was in anticipation. The end of his worries was ever so close, he could almost touch it with his fingertips. Instead they brushed the cave rock and he clutched the stone ledge, using it as a support to climb out of the water.

He shook his head, sending water drops everywhere.

This very instant he heard a piercing scream. It was so loud and full of pain, its agony hitting the cave walls with an echo. Then another scream followed, this time a hoarse one. Arthur jerked around and saw Merlin on the stone ledge. He was roaring, his eyes shut close. Arthur dashed to him, but suddenly his servant opened his eyes. They were radiant gold and they were not kind. Merlin made an impression of a possessed man, who was hurt inside. He screamed again, but it was a scream of anger and hatred rather than pain. Arthur made an attempt to pat Merlin’s shoulder, but the sorcerer gave him a quick glance, magically throwing Arthur to the wall. Arthur did not faint, but pain spread all over his back, as he hit the cave wall. He felt its coldness with his skin. Merlin breathed out a groan and stood up, pushing off of the stone floor. The sorcerer held out a hand and advanced. To Arthur’s horror Merlin’s lips twitched and moved, as he started muttering an incantation under his breath. Air evolved into ice cold substance, making it hard to breath. The sky outside turned unnaturally dark, heavy lead clouds gathers over the lake of Avalon. The storm swirled lake waters, rumbling and vibrating with dangerous magic.

“What are you doing?” cried Arthur, sliding up the rock and holding on it as a strong wind swooped into the cave, making him unstable.

“Arthur,” the King heard a new voice. It was the Great Dragon, his voice silent and wheezy. “Merlin’s own magic is fighting against him. You must stop this.”

“How do I do that?” exclaimed Arthur, emphasizing the last word, wind drowning his voice in howling and rumbling.

“Make him remember. His magic is back and it’s more powerful than any sorcerer has ever had. He is dangerous when out of control.”

“I can see that,” agreed Arthur, slowly moving along the wall. He wished so much he had his sword there. He wouldn’t have hurt Merlin, not for the wide world, but he felt defenceless without a weapon in his firm grip.

“You already know what helps him remember. Use your knowledge to save the young warlock,” called the Dragon out before letting out a hiss of tiredness. Arthur exhaled, his body trembling.

“Merlin,” he shouted, his voice drowning in the storm whistling. Merlin was standing in front of the King, his hands lowered now, but his eyes still gleaming angrily. There was a heavy rain outside, thick droplets pounding the lake. Arthur swallowed, hardly able to breath within gusts of wind. Rain crept inside, rare but large drops hitting Arthur hard in the face. He shouted again, “Merlin, I am sorry I made you wait for so long! But your waiting is over! I am here.”

Merlin did not move, not a single nerve twitched in his face. His dazzling bright eyes were fixed on Arthur, who continued talking to him over deafening storm.

“I want you back now. You, as in a babbling useless servant, who was the best servant ever to be in my service. The best friend I could imagine having. And you want yourself back too, because why else would you be still alive, so many centuries later?”

Merlin stumbled and fell to his knees, roaring in pain again. The rock cave trembled, a few tiny stones falling into the lake. Arthur breathed in, he knew he was pushing in the right direction.

“It hurts,” suddenly yelled Merlin, lying on the stone floor in agony, clutching his head.

“It will pass, I promise,” reassured Arthur, making a careful step closer to his friend. “You have saved my life countless times, I must pay the debt I owe you.”

“You owe me nothing,” whimpered Merlin, holding his hands over his head. “I did it for you, for our destiny and the world we were supposed to build together. I failed you.”

“You didn’t,” Arthur leaned over Merlin and helped him stand up, holding him tight. He ran his hand through Merlin’s wet hair and rested it on his neck. Arthur felt Merlin’s long arms embracing him, holding on him, as if his life depended on it, his face buried in Arthur’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

Merlin obeyed and stared at the King. There was less glow in his irises, but gold still swirled in them. Storm continued raging outside, ripping apart calm water surface of the magical lake.

“I am here, alive and well. You fulfilled your destiny. There might be no Albion to build, but you saved the King.”

Merlin’s gaze wandered around Arthur’s face, its soft round features wet under the rain, that slipped into the cave. There was another roll of rumbling.

“You have to stop it. I will help you,” pronounced Arthur, holding his hands on Merlin’s back, pressing him to himself. Merlin tilted his head, his lips slightly apart.

“How?”

Arthur leaned in and pressed his mouth against Merlin’s. Their teeth hit painfully in passionate kissing, but they did not stop. Arthur felt ground trembling under his feet and he knew it was Merlin’s magic rivaling against them, as his own spell reversed. Merlin groaned both with pleasure of holding Arthur’s lips between his and with pain of magic, relieving him. Arthur opened his eyes, not parting with Merlin’s lips and saw that Merlin was staring back, his eyes burning with gold. A lightning stroke outside, sending sparkles everywhere. Arthur pressed his hands to Merlin’s back and breathed in deeply, as if he was about to dive in water. Instead he dived in ardent and greedy lips of his Merlin, whose eyes lost their gleam.

“You dollophead, now your head will be twice bigger,” he snickered, moving his lips away from Arthur’s and licking his own. The King watched Merlin’s tongue over his red lips and then looked back at Merlin.

“You are back,” he said happily, making a step back and gesturing wildly. He quickly embraced Merlin again. His servant nodded and a brilliant grin, the one Arthur missed so terribly, lighted his face.

“My magic is under full control. My King is in my arms. My life belongs to me and not some rambling idiot in my place. Sounds good!” twittered Merlin, moving his head with every point. Arthur looked at him with a disbelieving smile and couldn’t manage to suppress a laughter, breaking out from his chest. As he laughed, Merlin joined him, his head having fallen on Arthur’s shoulder. They laughed, their chests hitting and shaking, and the storm outside slowly silenced down.

A deep voice spoke from behind,

“You have succeeded, young warlock. And you, young King,” said the Great Dragon. Merlin partly freed himself of Arthur’s hug and turned to look at the ancient creature.

“Kilgharrah,” he bowed to him respectfully. “My old friend.”

“Young warlock,” Arthur saw huge Dragon’s head move, as he bowed in return.

“I feared you have… died,” said Merlin sadly, making a step forward on slippery ledge. Arthur let him move, but did not let his hand go, holding it in a tight grasp.

“You were never alone in your destiny, Merlin. There was a heavy burden upon yourself, but you were aided in all your decisions and actions. Some stayed with you till the end.”

“So it is the end then?” spoke Arthur, making a step forward too, looking at Kilgharrah. “What is to happen to us?”

“This is now for you to decide. Albion is no more, but you, young King, are back for reasons. You came back when you were needed most.”

Arthur looked at Merlin, who stared on the cave floor. The King chuckled as he saw blush appearing on Merlin’s cheeks and sharp cheekbones.

“My time is over. My destiny is fulfilled. I have waited only to say goodbye,” said Kilgharrah with bitterness and despair in his hoarse voice. Merlin looked at him quickly, his lips pouted. Arthur noticed how quickly tears appeared in his dark blue eyes. The dragon must have noticed it too, as he said, “Do not anguish for me, Merlin. It is a cycle of life. You are not alone, after all.”

“You are the last of your kin,” said Merlin, tears running down his wet face. “Long ago my father said that you are like my brother. Dragons are.”

“And it is true. You are the last Dragonlord. You will no longer have need for your powers, but remember them, as they are your strength and your mercy.”

“I will never forget your guidance and help, Kilgharrah,” said Merlin. The Dragon gave him another bow, a weak movement of head. He watched Merlin for a second and then his giant head drooped. The cave trembled one last time, as Kilgharrah let out his last breath.

Arthur’s ears deafened with silence around them. He suddenly heard Merlin roar in such a voice that he’d never heard before. Desperate and painful, yet it wasn’t his magic. It was Merlin himself, as Arthur guessed, speaking the Dragon language, mourning the loss of his friend and the last of his kin.

When Merlin finished his speech in unknown language, Arthur put an arm round his shoulder.

“It’s over,” he patted him on the back. Merlin turned slightly and hugged Arthur, resting his sharp chin on broad shoulders.

“It’s over,” he echoed. “We should go back. There is home waiting for us.”

“I can stay?” asked Arthur, looking at Merlin. His servant grinned.

“You will stay, yes. And wash your socks yourself. And cook too. And even clean,” his lips stretched in a brilliant grin as he imagined all his usual Camelot chores done by the King. Arthur raised a hand to give him a cuff on the nape, but instead lowered it gently on Merlin’s neck and stroke his hair. Merlin smiled and carefully kissed Arthur. It was so different from before, gentle and light, trying and loving. Arthur caught every movement of Merlin, he moved his hand on his chin, lowering a thumb on Merlin’s lower lip.

“If this happens often, I agree to wash my socks. But only once a week.”

“It’s good for a start,” grinned Merlin, looking in Arthur’s eyes and pressing lips against his once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For any questions, typo reports and suggestions, please contact me on [Tumblr](http://toffy346.tumblr.com/)


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